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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28476453">luxuria.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/tortxrra/pseuds/tortxrra'>tortxrra</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Abuse of Authority, Breeding Kink, Creampie, Demon!Sakuma Rei, Dirty Talk, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Loss of Virginity, Masturbation, Penis In Vagina Sex, Priest!Sakuma Rei, Seduction, guided masturbation</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 14:48:48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,779</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28476453</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/tortxrra/pseuds/tortxrra</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When sinful dreams begin to plague your sleep, leading to restless nights and slip-ups in your studies, it’s only natural that you turn to the pastor of your local church for assistance in the matter.</p><p>(Or, Sakuma Rei disguises himself as a priest to grow close to the delectable, innocent human girl who's caught his eye.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sakuma Rei/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>83</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. confess your sins.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>stereotypical title is stereotypical, sue me</p><p>anyways HI long time no post!! i'm sorry for the absence; school wrapped up earlier this month and i've been job hunting BUT i've also been working on a bunch of wips. this is one i've been working on for MONTHS (since AUGUST !!!) and i've been really excited for. originally i intended to post this as a one-shot but it was taking so long and i wanted to give you guys Something to let you know that i'm not dead so i decided to split it into two chapters, with this chapter being the buildup and the second chapter having the seduction and sex. so far chapter two is over 1400 words, with almost 600 of them being dirty talk.</p><p>i'm not sure when chapter 2 will be finished but i'll try to get it done as soon as i can !!! please look forward to it &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When sinful dreams begin to plague your sleep, leading to restless nights and slip-ups in your studies, it’s only natural that you turn to the pastor of your local church for assistance in the matter. Father Sakuma has aided you in your troubles since he took over the parish, and not once has he led you astray of God’s teachings. Without him, you doubt you would be able to remain as steadfast in your worship as you do. You count your blessings that you have such a devoted and kind pastor to help you find your way to heaven.</p><p>When you arrive at the church, Father Sakuma directs you to sit at one of the pews in the front row while he tends to another member of the flock. You didn’t see any cars in the parking lot, nor did you hear anyone else in the church, but it isn’t your place to doubt others. No, a good follower of God should offer trust to others, especially their shepherd. You make a mental note to ask forgiveness for doubting Father Sakuma when he returns to take your confession.</p><p>It’s a long while before he returns. With your eyes closed and your mind deep in prayer, it takes you some time to notice his presence beside you on the pew. </p><p>“Father Sakuma!” You jump in surprise when you finally take notice of him, one hand placed over your racing heart. “I’m sorry for not noticing you sooner. You should have said something.”</p><p>He laughs, a gentle, soothing sound that eases the tension that crept into your shoulders, and you try to ignore how warm it makes your chest feel.</p><p>“My apologies, little miss.” Goodness, his smile is so beautiful, and that mirthful twinkle in his eyes is even moreso. “You looked so focused on your prayer, I didn’t wish to interrupt you. Such fervor is very admirable.”</p><p>Heat rushes to your cheeks at his praise. You remind yourself that he doesn’t mean anything personal by it, you’re just another member of his congregation, but you can’t help but smile. If he notices your gleeful reaction, he doesn’t say so, just rises from his seat and leads you to the confessional booth. The walk to the booth is short, but every step feels like a mile with how heavy your body is with guilt. Your heart is still racing, but now your body is thrumming with a nervous energy, not a delighted or surprised one.</p><p>When both you and Father Sakuma are seated in your respective sides of the booth, you stay silent, eyes fixed on the hands folded in your lap. Your brow is furrowed and your lip is swelling from how hard you’re biting into it, but you can’t bring yourself to speak.</p><p>“I can’t help you if you don’t confess your sins, little miss.”</p><p>(Were you not so absorbed in your thoughts, not so certain of your pastor’s own faith, you may have noticed his amusement.)</p><p>“I--” You stop yourself to clear your throat and wet your lips. Your next words are spoken slowly, not because you’re choosing your words carefully, but because you fear his reaction. “I’ve sinned, Father.”</p><p>He hums in acknowledgement, but he doesn’t press you. After hearing so many of your confessions, he knows that it’s easier to let you voice them at your own pace.</p><p>Your body shakes and tears blur your vision as you confess. “I’ve committed the sin of lust.”</p><p>“I’m glad you’ve come to me with this,” he soothes you. “But if I’m to help you find forgiveness, you must tell me the details of the sin you’ve committed.”</p><p>You can’t keep the tears from falling when you force the words from your throat. You detail all of the dreams that have plagued you in recent months, words spilling and revealing every sinful desire your subconscious has exposed to you. By the time you’ve finished, you’re sobbing, your face buried in your heads and shoulders shaking.</p><p>You feel so terribly humiliated. Surely Father Sakuma will hate you now that he knows what a disgusting, vile sinner you are. Surely he’ll tell you there’s no salvation to be found for your soul. You’ll live the rest of your miserable life as a fool who gave into Satan before the King of Hell claims your soul and burns you for eternity. You wish you hadn’t confessed; if you’re to burn in Hell, you’d at least rather burn without Father Sakuma knowing the truth about you.</p><p>“I forgive you, little miss.”</p><p>You look up at him through the grate in the confessional. “But,” you sniffle, “but why? I’m, I’m a sinner, I should burn in hell--”</p><p>He interrupts you with a raise of his hand. “There will be no more of that,” he chastises. “All you need know is that I will grant you God’s forgiveness. You will have to repent, but that can be discussed in the morning.”</p><p>Your brow furrows in confusion as Father Sakuma opens the door to his side of the confessional. When he opens your door, you almost mistake him for an angel with the way the light of the moon filtering in through the stained glass window encircles his head. You take the hand he offers and step down from the booth, missing the contact as soon as he retracts his hand.</p><p>“It’s late,” he notes, “much too late for you to venture home. You ought to spend the night here.”</p><p>Your face is on fire. How could he offer such a thing after hearing the contents of your sinful dreams…? But no matter how you protest, he insists it would be unsafe for you to leave the church. You can leave in the morning, when the sun has risen, but for now you should sleep.</p><p>You agree, albeit hesitantly. Your pulse pounds in your ears as you follow Father Sakuma to the residential quarters of the church, and it doesn’t slow even after you’ve tucked yourself into bed and Father Sakuma has left you to sleep. It’s only when sleep finally takes you, despite how wired you were, that your heart finally finds peace.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. love yourself as you love me.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>yes i ended up splitting this into another chapter. i'm sorry &lt;3</p><p>next chapter will be the last one (probably. i hope) so please look forward to the Thrilling conclusion</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When you open your eyes, you’re no longer in the room Father Sakuma lent to you. You’re in a grand, lavish bedchamber, one with a high ceiling and carved metal work adorning the walls. You find yourself lying naked in a large bed decorated with pillows dressed in crimson silk that matches the lush cover beneath you.</p><p>It’s the same place all of your dreams have taken place in.</p><p>Panic grips your heart at this realization. You thought that, after confessing your sins to Father Sakuma, you would no longer be plagued by these dreams, yet here you are. You don’t even notice the door opening or the man approaching you, but you do notice when the bed dips beneath his weight. When you look up, you see the subject of your nightly fantasies, but his appearance is different.</p><p>No longer is he dressed in his priest’s garb. Horrifyingly, deliciously, Father Sakuma is completely nude, his sole clothing a pair of ruby earrings that twinkle in the candlelight. Your voice is trapped in your throat; you can’t even voice your surprise, your confusion, left only to gape and stare at him.</p><p>Even more alarming than his nudity is the pair of horns sprouting from his forehead, curling and twisting back and next to his head.</p><p>“Good morning, little miss,” he purrs.</p><p>You can’t help but begin to cry when you hear his voice. You bury your face in your hands, completely demoralized. Even your nudity slips your mind, disgusted with yourself for having another lustful dream as you are. You don’t fight him when he takes you into his arms and shushes you. Ashamed as you are by the recurrence of your lustful dream, Father Sakuma’s embrace is admittedly soothing, especially when combined with the gentle pull of his fingers through your hair and his touch on your arm.</p><p>You cry until no more tears will come and you can only hiccup and dry heave, then turn your red and puffy eyes to your companion.</p><p>“What’s happening to me?” you whisper.</p><p>He brushes his thumb against your tear-stained face and smirks at you. The unfamiliar rush of heat it sends to your lower belly is involuntary on your part, but it happens anyways (and you don’t entirely hate it).</p><p>“This is repentance.”</p><p>You collapse into Father Sakuma’s chest, your hands no longer covering your face and instead clinging to his bare skin as you dry heave, unable to produce any more tears but still in desperate need of relief from your shame. Despite your pitiful show, your companion doesn’t push you away; he holds you close and allows you to cling to him for comfort, all the while whispering words of love and forgiveness.</p><p>“Little miss,” he murmurs, coaxing you to turn your face to him with a clawed finger under your chin, “do you want my help?”</p><p>You want to voice your disbelief at his willingness to help you even after seeing you in such a pathetic state, but you can barely speak through your sniffles and sobs and are forced to settle for a shaky nod. Father Sakuma smiles gently at you, and, in your current state, exhausted from expressing such strong emotions in such a short period of time, you can’t stop yourself from shivering in fear and excitement when the candlelight illuminates the fangs peeking from under his upper lip. Confused discomfort takes root in your mind when he begins to shift you on the bed, along with himself. He leans back against the plush pillows at the head of the bed and situates you between his now spread legs, his hands coming to rest on your thighs once he’s satisfied with your position.</p><p>Goosebumps spring up on the skin of your legs as Father Sakuma rubs them, the sensation making it difficult to focus on his words when he begins to speak. “If I am to give you my assistance in your repentance,” he begins, voice low and breath hot on your ear, “I will require knowledge of your sin, my dear.”</p><p>You’re confused by his words; you already confessed earlier. But the priest has always been kind to you and withheld judgement of your sins; he’s never led you astray, and you don’t think he’s doing so now. With your eyes clenched shut as if to hide from a judgemental gaze that will never come and your cheeks flaming with embarrassment, you confess your sin of lust.</p><p>Your meager confession is not enough, it seems. Father Sakuma’s hair, wavy, dark, and something you’ve imagined seeing between your legs on many a moonlit night, brushes against your warm cheeks as he shakes his head. “More detail than that is required, I’m afraid,” he laments with a sigh. He seems just as reluctant to have your shame exposed as you are, yet he’s proceeding with the confession all for your sake. His concern for the fate of your soul warms your heart and makes your lips twitch into a small smile. You squirm on his lap to make yourself more comfortable and force yourself to ignore what you feel poking your lower back as you muster the courage to elaborate on your sin.</p><p>“I,” you pause to lick your lips, “I often find myself...fantasizing about, about being in bed with, with you, Father Sakuma.” Your voice quivers with terrified shame as you worry at the possibility of him tossing you aside in disgust. Surely your sin is too great to be forgiven, and Father Sakuma will realize that as soon as you relay the details of your sordid fantasies.</p><p>“Is that all?” His shocked tone of voice only worsens your shame and adds the concern that you’re wasting his time to your already extensive list of worries. “My dear, there is nothing sinful about simply being in bed with another.”</p><p>There’s hesitation in your movements as you shake your head and tears in your voice as you correct him. “We don’t just lie there,” you say softly, lip trembling and eyelashes fluttering as you blink back tears. “You, you touch me. And I t-touch you too.”</p><p>“Where do we touch one another?” You know Father Sakuma only wants to help you and that you have to confess your sin properly in order for him to do so, but no amount of logic or rationalization can shake or even lessen your shame. You feel even worse for putting the pastor in a position where he has to ask such lewd questions.</p><p>(Little do you know, his question is far more innocent than the filth you’ll both be spewing soon.)</p><p>Even with no tears left to cry, you sob, body shaking. “On, on our genitals, Father,” you confess with a sniffle. Your shame is so great you fear you’ll drown in it, the weight of the knowledge of your sin slowly and tortuously crushing your heart in its grip. Before Father Sakuma can respond to your confession, you’re begging for forgiveness, hands clasped in prayer and eyes squeezed shut to block out the sight of him, twisted as his appearance is by your disgusting fantasy. “Oh, Lord, please forgive me for having such impure thoughts--”</p><p>The pastor places a clawed finger on your lips to silence you, and, while effective, it makes you want to take the tip into your mouth and suck as if it’s what you really want. “Shh, there is no need for further apology, my dear,” he hushes you in a gentle tone. You manage to force your eyes open so you can face him properly, feeling eye contact is the least you can do to show your respect to the man who’s dirtying himself to save you. The small smile on his lips puts your heart at ease, causing the muscles to slow from their rapid contractions and allow your pulse to return to a more normal pace. Although you can feel the claws on his fingers, his other hand in your hair, smoothing through the strands and stroking your head, nearly makes you coo and nuzzle into his touch like a pet. “All you need do is further elaborate and leave the rest to me. Will you do so?”</p><p>You bite your lip and nod. “Yes, Father,” you say quietly, obediently, before adding, “Thank you for helping a sinner like me.”</p><p>Father Sakuma’s amused chuckle is greater than any melody the gospel choir has ever sung, and it makes your heart flutter in a different way than when it’s gripped with panic. “You needn’t thank me,” he laughed. “It is my <i>pleasure</i> to help you. Now then,” his gaze becomes more serious, but still that gentle glee from before remains, “in what manner do we touch one another?”</p><p>“You, um,” you pause to gather your wits, squirming on his lap again, “you p-put your fingers in-inside me.” Your voice is practically a whisper, but it’s the most you can manage. Truly, it’s a miracle you were able to say it at all, given your virginal shyness and inexperience in saying such things. It’s a sin to indulge in such primal lust; sexual acts are only to be done with one’s spouse as vowed before God, not for you to fantasize about your pastor doing to you, and certainly not for you to do to yourself when you wake up with a strange feeling in your lower belly and wetness sticking your panties to your crotch.</p><p>Father Sakuma, to his credit, seems unbothered by your words and continues to prod you with his line of questioning, seeking to draw out more information from you despite your shy hesitation. “How so?”</p><p>You avert your gaze from where you had fixed it on a spot on the ornate walls, instead staring at your lap. “I-I’m not sure how to explain it, I’m sorry.” It isn’t a lie, either; being a Church-going, God-fearing girl, you know little about sex beyond the basic act of a man inserting his penis into a woman’s vagina. The acts you commit in your dreams with Father Sakuma are wholly unfamiliar to you, regardless of the number of times you’ve dreamt of doing them.</p><p>He hums thoughtfully, considering how to proceed with the confession in the face of this obstacle. “Show me, then.”</p><p>Your mouth gapes at his suggestion. “Sh-show you?!” You couldn’t possibly do such a thing! Exposing oneself to one other than a doctor or spouse was a sin, and weren’t you supposed to be trying to live a life free of sin? Seeing as you’ve proven unable to do so thus far, aren’t you supposed to be repenting for having committed one?</p><p>“Yes.” Opposite your inner conflict, Father Sakuma does not seem disturbed by his request. “Replicate my touches as best as you are able. There is no cause for concern; I am here to help, my dear.”</p><p>You bite your lip as you mull over his command. On the one hand, doing as he told you to, touching yourself in a manner that should be reserved for your future husband, should he so wish to indulge you, goes against everything you’ve been taught. On the other, the young, kind pastor behind you has never led you or any other member of his congregation astray, and even now he’s only trying to help. He’s someone you can trust. </p><p>Your deliberation feels like centuries to you, but in reality it takes only seconds for you to submit to his will. With a shaking voice and shakier hand, you agree to do as he says. With burning shame engulfing you, you place two fingers at your entrance and begin to push. You have no idea what else to do; your dreams always start after Father Sakuma has already begun touching you, so you don’t know how he starts. All you ever remember is the pleasure he brings you.</p><p>The man in question grips your wrist, and you gasp at his strong hold. “Ah, just a moment, little miss,” he tuts. “Penetration will be painful without preparation. Do I do anything before I put my fingers inside of you?”</p><p>You know there’s no shame in you not knowing that you’re supposed to prepare yourself before you penetrate yourself with anything; an unmarried woman like yourself isn’t <i>supposed</i> to do know anything of sex. And yet, you feel your eyes sting as if you’re going to cry at Father Sakuma having to correct you; you can’t even sin properly. But wallowing in your shame is unacceptable, so you force yourself to answer him. “Y-yes,” you begin, pausing to lick your lips. “You, um, you rub part of me.”</p><p>“Which part of you?” he presses, and perhaps if you weren’t stuck in your head, suffocated by shame, you would notice how <i>excited</i> he sounds. “Your breasts?”</p><p>You shiver at the thought of his hands on your chest, it, like the rest of your body, aching for his touch. “Y-you do that too, but I meant my,” you struggle to remember the name for the small bundle of nerves between your legs, “my clitoris.”</p><p>Not only do you not hear the glee in his voice, you don’t see the smirk his gentle smile has twisted into as you ease into touching yourself. “Do so, then,” he urges. Then, more softly, “I would hate for you to harm yourself while doing something I requested of you.”</p><p>Your heart flutters at his concern not only for your soul, but also for your physical wellbeing, and you can’t help but smile. Father Sakuma truly is such a wonderful, caring man, and you’re blessed to have such a kind pastor to help you find your way into God’s kingdom. Taking a deep breath, you shift your fingers from your opening to where your clit is hiding under his hood above your slit. You’ve never looked for it before, the slick you produce in your sleep allowing you to simply put your fingers inside yourself and work yourself to weak orgasms that can’t compare to the ones in your dreams. Some, Father Sakuma included, would describe the concentrated look on your face as cute as you search earnestly for the small nub.</p><p>That same pastor seems to no longer wish to wait for you to find it, as he places his hand over yours and guides your touch to your clit. The sudden touch draws a gasp from you, your eyes going wide and your back arching as a bolt of electricity runs up your spine, but your body goes lax again when Father Sakuma’s deep voice coos praises for you in your ear. Even though your fingers continue to circle it of their own accord, you miss his guidance when he retracts his hand. He doesn’t leave you untouched entirely, however, his large hands cupping your breasts instead. He doesn’t squeeze or grope or move to play with your nipples, though, just enjoys the weight of your mounds in his hands, even when you try to shake your chest and tempt him into playing with you more.</p><p>God, what have you become? </p><p>You don’t have long to think on the degeneracy you’re descending into, as Father Sakuma soon speaks again. “How does it feel?” he murmurs. You’re too excited by touching your clit to hold back the moan that flows freely from you when his fangs brush against the shell of your ear. Truly, you’re succumbing to pleasure at such a rapid rate you can’t even take note of the fact that he has <i>fangs</i> instead of normal human teeth. With the state you’re in, you’re no longer concerned about his horns, either; you just want to grab onto them and use them to force his head between your legs and his face into your pussy, use them as reins to tether yourself to reality (is this reality?) as you ride his tongue into orgasm.</p><p>“It, ah, it feels good, I think,” you pant. And it <i>does</i>. Due to your inexperience, it doesn’t feel as good as you know it can; the circles you rub into your clit are uneven and shaky, and you keep slipping and having to find it again, but it’s still sending pleasure up and down your spine and making your toes curl. You swipe your middle finger up your slit with a moan, testing to see how effective your teasing of yourself has been, and are pleased to find that wetness has begun to leak from your entrance. “I’m s-starting to get wet.” Your voice is no longer shaking from shame; no, now it’s <i>pleasure</i> clouding your brain, scattering your thoughts until all you can think of is how to feel even better.</p><p>“Good.” Father Sakuma’s praise, brief as it is, leaves you smiling down at the sight of your own hand between your legs. “That should ease the pain. Now, try inserting a finger.”</p><p>As always, you do as he instructs. You have to shift a bit, spreading your legs wider over the pastor’s own limbs for better leverage, but eventually you press your middle finger into your wet entrance, leaving your index finger to continue rubbing clumsy circles into your clit. Your gummy walls offer little resistance to your finger’s intrusion, instead sucking it in deeper until you’re knuckle-deep in your own pussy. Your heart races and your chest heaves as you gasp down air and begin fingering yourself.</p><p>“How does it feel?” he whispers into your skin. “What does your pussy feel like, little miss?”</p><p>You make a garbled noise, a mix between a cry of pleasure at the nickname and gasp of surprise at his lewd language, and it takes every damn ounce of self-control you have to not clamp your legs shut and rut mindlessly against your hand at the effect his words have on you. “W-weird,” you manage to gasp. “It’s--I’m twitching inside. It’s so hot, and it’s really wet.”</p><p>“But does it feel good?” he presses. “Do you like having your fingers inside yourself?”</p><p>You nod, your head bouncing like a lewd bobblehead. Your pace is uneven and clumsy, and, if you’re being honest, you doubt you would feel very good at all if you weren’t rubbing your clit at the same time, but you’ll say anything to keep the pastor talking. Your lack of success makes you furrow your brows and scowl as you twist your finger around and curl it in a desperate attempt at feeling good. So preoccupied with your pursuit of pleasure are you that you can’t quell the frustrated noise you make in the back of your throat.</p><p>Father Sakuma perks up at the sound, having taken to licking his lips and watching you play with yourself. “Is something the matter?” he enquires, voice quiet and low.</p><p>You shift in his lap and huff in frustration again. Even when you speak, your fingers don’t stop, one still prodding around inside your pussy and another still rubbing at the bundle of nerves above it. “It--doing it myself doesn’t feel as good as it does when you do it,” you confess. The tears in your eyes now are not ones of embarrassment or shame; no, these are the tears of a whore who’s been denied the pleasure she’s grown addicted to.</p><p>(Even your frustration tastes sweet to him.)</p><p>“What difference is there?” You wish he would move his hands on you. Even a squeeze of your breasts would do wonders for helping you orgasm, but they remain completely still.</p><p>But, wait, you aren’t supposed to be seeking orgasm, are you? Aren’t you supposed to be doing something else? Did you even come here of your own accord?</p><p>All questions fade from your mind when Father Sakuma presses a kiss to your pulse point, drawing a gasp from your dry, parted lips.</p><p>“Y-your fingers are bigger than mine,” you explain. You don’t recognize the voice that leaves your throat. You don’t sound like the good girl you’re supposed to be at all; you sound like a woman who’s desperate for release. “They reach so deep and feel so good and you know just where to touch.” You’re rambling, your voice high and shaking as you struggle to keep your thoughts straight enough to answer Father Sakuma’s question.</p><p>“Do I not touch your genitals?” He sounds confused, and suddenly your shame is back. If he’s confused, then he isn’t proud of you, and if he isn’t proud of you then what’s the point? You want him to be proud of you. You want him to be happy that you’re feeling good. You want him to feel good too.</p><p>Struggling though you may be to come, pleasure is still fogging your brain, making it difficult for you to recall anything, including your memories of your other dreams. “You do, I mean,” you groan as you pull your finger from your pussy to pinch your clit, “there’s, there’s a spot inside and you know how to find it. It feels so good when you--” Even though you’ve fallen so far, there’s still a part of you that’s embarrassed by what you’re saying, and that part of you takes control just long enough for you to whine instead of continuing your sentence.</p><p>But Father Sakuma will have none of it. “When I?” he urges you to continue, pressing more heated kisses up and down the curve of your neck even as his hands remain still under your breasts. With a sigh you lean your neck to the side opposite of him to give him more room as you struggle to gather your wits and fight back your shyness to relay your woes.</p><p>“C-curl your fingers into it, or ram into it, oh--” As you speak, the finger in your pussy, now accompanied by your index finger as your thumb flicks your puffy clit, brushes past a spot instead of you that makes your toes curl. You know immediately that that’s your good spot, your special spot, the one that’ll make you feel so good. You know it will because it has in the past, in your dreams when Father Sakuma fucked you with his fingers, his tongue, his <i>cock</i>--</p><p>“Did you find it?” He sounds smug, delighted, like he’s just opened a Christmas present he knew he was getting but had to wait patiently to open, and <i>God</i> does it make you even wetter than you already are.</p><p>“I-I think so, ah, Father Sakuma--” You can barely speak now, the pleasure frying your brain, but you know that not answering him isn’t an option. Even as you kick your legs wildly under the assault on your senses, even as you arch your chest up into his <i>still fucking unmoving hands</i>, you force yourself to reply to him.</p><p>“Good girl,” he praises, sending you reeling and crying. “You’re doing so well. Do I say anything when I pleasure you?”</p><p>“I’m so sorry, Father,” you moan, even though you know you aren’t sorry, not anymore. “My mind makes you say such lewd things.”</p><p>“No more apologies now,” he chastises. It makes you whimper in the <i>bad</i> way; you’ve upset your beloved Father Sakuma, even if only the slightest bit, and you hate yourself for it. But when he speaks again, he’s back to the gentle but excited tone of voice he used when he praised you, the tone of voice that tells you he’s enjoying watching your debauched display just as much as you’re enjoying putting it on. “What do I say in your dreams?”</p><p>“T-that I have, I have such a p-pretty pussy,” you moan as you shake your hips against your hand, “and I s-swallow your fingers so well, and you can’t wait to put your c-cock in me and b-breed me.” The words leaving your mouth are absolutely filthy, and the old you would never have been brave enough to say such things. You would have hidden your face in embarrassment just hearing such things, and now here you are, eager to say all these things and more if it means that the man you’re fucking yourself to will praise you again, even if you <i>are</i> stuttering them.</p><p>“‘Breed’ you?” he echoes. Contrary to what you expect, he doesn’t sound disgusted. Rather, he sounds <i>delighted</i>, and it’s even more apparent when he continues to speak. “The me in your dreams is correct. You truly do have a lovely pussy.”</p><p>You feel yourself clench around your fingers at his unexpected, though not unwelcome, words. Only in your lewdest dreams did you imagine your pastor saying such things to you, affirming your sordid desires. Unable to control yourself any longer, your fingers begin to move at a more rapid page, hammering into your sopping pussy and rubbing uneven circles into your aching clit. There’s no rhythm to your movements, only a primal desire for climax.</p><p>As if sensing your impending orgasm and knowing his words have helped push you closer to the edge, Father Sakuma continues speaking. “And you would look so beautiful with my child,” he praises in a whisper. “Can you imagine it? Your stomach round, your breasts full…”</p><p>“Ah, what, what are you s-saying…” You <i>can</i> imagine it: Father Sakuma’s hands rubbing your belly and smiling as your child kicks at their father’s touch, his hands on your shoulders as he massages away the aches and pains that resulted from carrying a new life, his warm mouth suckling on your tits as you leak milk...The images his words are conjuring all seem like impossibilities, a reality you’ll never get to witness.</p><p>“I am only being honest, my dear,” he chuckles at your embarrassed and excited reaction. “I would be honored if you bore my child.” His tone is teasing, but there’s nothing to suggest that he’s saying these things for the sole purpose of riling you up. You truly, honestly think that Father Sakuma wants you to have his child, that he wants to fill you with so much of his seed that your eggs have no choice but to be fertilized.</p><p>It’s all too much: his words and the images they’re conjuring, combined with the rapid movements of your fingers in and on your pussy are too much for your virginal mind and body, but you can’t even protest his words. Your mind is simply too scrambled with pleasure to do anything but accept more of it, <i>demand</i> more of it like the greedy little whore you are. You think Father Sakuma may be speaking again, but you can only hear your pulse in your ears as your mind replays his previous taunts and praises. With a moan of his title, your vision goes spotty, and you squeeze your eyes shut in an attempt to block out the dots as your walls squeeze and tremble around your fingers. You feel as if your entire being is suspended; you don’t think you even breathe as your orgasm washes over you. All you’re capable of doing is lying there and letting the pleasure run its course.</p><p>When your orgasm is over, you sag against the man behind you, chest heaving to make up for the breath you missed out on. Your fingers remain nestled in your pussy, if only because you’re so tired that you don’t even have the energy to remove them. Sleep could easily overtake you if you allowed it to. If you just closed your eyes and cuddled closer to Father Sakuma...</p><p>It’s the voice of the man in question which rouses you from your almost slumber. Your eyes have opened, but you can’t turn them to him. Even so, you can hear the smirk in his voice when he speaks. “Little miss,” he purrs, “did you just climax for me?”</p><p>You’re so ashamed. You’re so <i>excited</i>. That orgasm felt wonderful, but all it did was make you want more. You want Father Sakuma’s fingers in you next, his long digits stretching your walls as his tongue flicks your clit. You want his mouth on yours, his tongue in your mouth and his hands on your body. On top of your lust, now you’re committing the sin of greed, your desire for Father Sakuma stoked into an inferno that only he can dampen.</p><p>You don’t know it yet, but he has no such plans to quell the flames. No, he wants to make them burn even brighter, even hotter. </p><p>He’s going to drown you in your sins, whether you swim deeper willingly or he has to hold your head beneath the waves.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>this isn't my greatest work but i hope you liked it anyways and are looking forward to the conclusion! thank you for reading &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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